Some Funnies

[Alex Blair (RIP)]

Here is a great game to play with your friends..
Leave it up to the Kiwi's to think this one up..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FY4cp...eature=related

[Howard]

Australia is currently being led by a 'Ranga!
Enough said.

[Lynn Eades]

Is a "Ranga" a "Ginga"?

[Howard]

Ranga.. as in.. Ranga-Tan
baby-orangutan2.jpg

[aj.lec]

Originally Posted by Lynn Eades

Is a "Ranga" a "Ginga"?

A Welsh born one at that

[Keith Webb]

Originally Posted by Howard

Australia is currently being led by a 'Ranga!
Enough said.

And I used to be attracted by redheads.

At least it's the colour of her politics. As someone said on the wireless the other day: Same fleas, different dog.

Here's a nice poster made by my editor to celebrate her bloody ascendency:

[aj.lec]

TWO LADIES TALKING IN HEAVEN


1st woman: Hi! Wanda.

2nd woman: Hi! Sylvia. How'd you die?

1st woman: I froze to death.

2nd woman: How horrible!

1st woman: It wasn't so bad. After I quit shaking from the cold, I began to get warm & sleepy, and finally died a peaceful death...What about you?

2nd woman: I died of a massive heart attack. I suspected that my husband was cheating, so I came home early to catch him in the act. But instead, I found him all by himself in the den watching TV.

1st woman: So, what happened?

2nd woman: I was so sure there was another woman there somewhere that I started running all over the house looking. I ran up into the attic and searched, and down into the basement. Then I went through every closet and checked under all the beds. I kept this up until I had looked everywhere, and finally I became so exh au sted that I just keeled over with a heart attack and died.

1st woman: Too bad you didn't look in the freezer---we'd both still be alive.

PRICELESS

[Geoff Winnington-Ball (RIP)]

This just in, from a respectable source:

Subject: Suicide Bombers to go on strike

Muslim suicide bombers in Britain are set to begin a three-day strike on Monday in a dispute over the number of virgins they are entitled to in the afterlife. Emergency talks with al-Qaida have so far failed to produce an agreement. The unrest began last Tuesday when al-Qaida announced that the number of virgins a suicide bomber would receive after his death will be cut by 25% this February, from 72 to only 60. The rationale for the cut was the increase in recent years of the number of suicide bombings and a subsequent shortage of virgins in the afterlife.

The suicide bomber's union, the British Organization of Occupational Martyrs (BOOM) responded with a statement that this was unacceptable to its members and immediately balloted for strike action. General Secretary Abdullah Amir told the press, "Our members are literally working themselves to death in the cause of Jihad. We don't ask for much in return, and to be treated like this is like a kick in the teeth."

Speaking from his shed in Tipton in the West Midlands, in which he currently resides, al-Qaida chief executive Osama bin Laden explained, "We sympathize with our workers concerns, but al-Qaida is simply not in a position to meet their demands. They are simply not accepting the realities of modern-day Jihad in a competitive marketplace.

Thanks to Western depravity there is now a chronic shortage of virgins in the afterlife. It's a straight choice between reducing expenditure and laying people off. I don't like cutting wages but I'd hate to have to tell 3,000 of my staff that they won't be able to blow themselves up."

Spokespersons for the Union in the north east of England, Ireland, Wales, and the entire Australian continent stated that the strike would not affect their operations, as "there are no virgins in their areas anyway."

Apparently the drop in the number of suicide bombings has been put down to the emergence of Scottish singing star Susan Boyle - now that Muslims know what an actual virgin looks like they are not so keen on going to paradise.

[Hanno Spoelstra]

Originally Posted by Geoff Winnington-Ball

This just in, from a respectable source:

Very funny indeed . . .

[lynx42]

Subject: Women's Restroom



When you have to visit a public washroom, you
usually find a line of women,
so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check
for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.


Finally, a door opens and you dash in,

nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall..



You get in to find the door won't latch. It

doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!
The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mum , no
doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if
there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it
around your neck, ( Mum would turn over in her grave if you put it on the
FLOOR! ), yank down your pants, and assume ' The Stance.'


In this position your aging, toneless thigh

muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't
taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold 'The
Stance.'


To take your mind off your trembling

thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper
dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Honey, if
you had tried to clean the seat, you would haveKNOWNthere was no toilet
paper!' Your thighs shake more.


You remember the tiny tissue that you blew

your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the
purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle
yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the
puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail


Someone pushes your door open because the

latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your
neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against
the tank of the toilet. 'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door,
dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose
your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT .. It
is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your
bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the
uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was
any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be
utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never
touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW
what kind of diseases you could get.'


By this time, the automatic sensor on the

back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of
water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine
mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your
shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab
onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.


At this point, you give up. You're soaked

by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to
wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out
inconspicuously to the sinks.


You can't figure out how to operate the

faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a
dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.


You are no longer able to smile politely to

them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet
paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You
yank
the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her
warmly, 'Here, you just might need this.'


As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has

long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he
asks, 'What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your
neck?'


This is dedicated to women everywhere who

deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It
finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also
answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the
restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your
purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!